


Rush of Blood (Harpstring Moon)

by MxMearcstapa



Series: Lunar Haruspex: A Blue Lions Story [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions & Black Eagles, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-house seminars must be a truly wild time, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gen, Mentioned Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem), POV Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Pining, Pre-Timeskip Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, You guys like singing right?, dimileth, he doesn't even know how much he's pining, oblivious flirting, oh goodness the pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxMearcstapa/pseuds/MxMearcstapa
Summary: Dimitri did not wish to instill overconfidence, but nerves could be as condemning as bravado. Professor Eisner was an experienced mercenary—but surely she remembered the fear of her first missions?If she had ever been afraid of anything, that is.Dimitri bit his lip, an idea slowly forming. She had not expressly said they would fail. Only to be careful.He could work with that.“That’s right—thank you, Professor,” he asserted with another bright smile. “Prudence is vital to our success.”“Is that what you heard from all that?” Sylvain said. He glanced at the professor with a raised brow. “Cuz that’s not what I heard.”“I heard, ‘don’t die,’” Felix said, drawing his sword.Sylvain grumbled, “Easier said than done.”In which Dimitri and the Blue Lions face two kinds of battles: one practice against the Knights of Seiros and the other against the arts.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Series: Lunar Haruspex: A Blue Lions Story [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584496
Comments: 25
Kudos: 59





	Rush of Blood (Harpstring Moon)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! *waves* Chapter 6 is finally here. <3 thank you all so much for your patience, and I hope that you enjoy it. ^_^

The Brionic Plateau was lush, the air almost heavy with dampness. Dimitri took a deep breath. With Garreg Mach situated in the mountains, training at an elevation was something the Blue Lions were used to. Hailing from Faerghus, however, the humidity was an element that gave them a little more pause. Surely nothing they couldn’t overcome, though—or so he thought until he looked back at his classmates. They examined the area around them, wiping the dew from their weapons, running their palms along their uniforms to diminish the moisture. Dissatisfied with the results, they grimaced, their shoulders slumping.

Dimitri did his best to hold back a sigh.

Unsuitable weather was but one of many factors against them for the fight ahead. Youth, inexperience, nausea from the warp here, opponents with more experience—Dimitri scanned the trees for the figures he knew he’d find within. The Knights of Seiros who had volunteered to be their opponents looked nowhere near as uncomfortable as Dimitri’s classmates did. Instead, they talked amongst themselves, stretching and checking their gear. Here, Dimitri thought, it was plainly demonstrated what the Blue Lions were meant to embody. A knight—a soldier—was prepared for any climate, any circumstance, any occasion.

If his class were to defeat such esteemed, seasoned opponents, they would need to adopt a similar mindset. And perhaps with a little push, they might.

Dimitri turned around and smiled at his classmates.

“This will be an excellent opportunity to show off our training,” he said.

A few of them smiled back, the tension leaving their shoulders. _Good._

“Do you really think so?” Ashe asked.

“Of course,” Dimitri replied. “Thanks to our professor, we’ve been training hard. I’ve seen quite the improvement in all of you. I have confidence in our ability to rise to this challenge.”

Some of the students nodded, sparks lighting in their eyes, the corners of their mouths turning up. They looked to their professor. A short distance ahead, she stood, staring into the trees—sizing up the competition, no doubt.

“What do you think, Professor?” Annette asked.

The professor turned to face them, expression implacable. In a tone completely matter-of-fact, she said, “Avoid one-on-one confrontations. It is not about pride. The Knights have trained for longer. They are stronger than you. You are aiming for survival. Remember the plan. And stay focused.”

Their professor turned away, towards the trees. The Blue Lions’ smiles sunk, their shoulders dropping once more.

Dimitri found his second sigh even harder to hold in.

It was practical advice to be sure, but the delivery was hardly inspirational. Dimitri did not wish to instill overconfidence, but nerves could be as condemning as bravado. Professor Eisner was an experienced mercenary—but surely she remembered the fear of her first missions?

If she had ever been afraid of anything, that is.

Dimitri bit his lip, an idea slowly forming. She had not expressly said they would fail. Only to be careful.

He could work with that.

“That’s right—thank you, Professor,” he asserted with another bright smile. “Prudence is vital to our success.”

“Is that what you heard from all that?” Sylvain said. He glanced at the professor with a raised brow. “Cuz that’s not what I heard.”

“I heard, ‘don’t die,’” Felix said, drawing his sword.

Sylvain grumbled, “Easier said than done.”

A horn sounded, the signal to commence the battle.

“Squads,” the professor called. “Sylvain, come to me.”

Sylvain chuckled, shedding his apprehension like a dog shaking itself dry. He eyed the professor with a playful smile and strode towards her, lance leaning against one shoulder. “With pleasure, Professor.”

 _“Sylvain_ _,”_ chided Ingrid and Dimitri simultaneously. Flirting with girls at the monastery was one thing. Flirting at the start of a battle was irresponsible at best. And flirting with the professor _at all_ _…_ “unacceptable” didn’t quite begin to cover it. He had to be joking, right? Sylvain was flirtatious by nature. He couldn’t possibly intend…

Oh, goddess, he _might._

Dimitri looked away. He couldn’t worry about that now. He absolutely did not have time to with the battle starting. Already, the Knights had to be moving. Any second now, they would crash through the trees.

…had Professor Eisner responded to Sylvain? Dimitri looked back at them. The professor gave no indication of a reaction in either direction, and Sylvain’s grin was neither triumphant nor disappointed. Maybe she hadn’t heard then? Or—

“Um, Ingrid? Your Highness?” The panic in Ashe’s voice broke his reverie. “Shouldn’t we get moving?”

Dimitri shook his head. This was no time to engage in idle thoughts.

“Ashe, nock an arrow. Ingrid, get ready.”

He raised his lance and crept forward, followed closely by Ingrid and Ashe.

Their objective for this battle was to take down the enemy commander. As such, Dimitri expected him to be deep behind enemy lines—the farther he was from the front, the harder he’d be to defeat. To reach him at all, the Lions would have to push through waves of soldiers more skilled than they were.

Professor Eisner’s plan involved placing herself at the front to distract the waves, allowing the other squads to sneak around the sides. It was risky, but if the enemy did not determine their aim—and the professor could hold her ground—they stood a chance at success.

From somewhere nearby, Dimitri heard her grunt, the sound swallowed by the clang of steel on steel. In front of them, the foliage shuddered. A soldier burst out of it, and Dimitri met him with a sweep of his lance. Ingrid followed up behind him with a solid blow to the man’s torso. With a curse, the soldier stepped back, swinging in Ingrid’s direction—but she had already dashed to his other side. Dimitri took advantage of the opening with a downward thrust.

Their opponent was tenacious. Against Ingrid and Dimitri both, he was outnumbered—but he did not back down. It was admirable, to fight against an opponent that was giving his all—but it was also increasingly clear to Dimitri that despite the soldier’s perseverance, the two of them were giving him clear trouble.

They were holding their own against one of the Knights of Seiros.

Dimitri had not been exaggerating when he told his classmates they had improved. But he had not expected their improvement to have made such a significant difference. He wondered if the others were faring as well, and if they could see the fruits of their labor.

Another hit the soldier failed to block from Ingrid, another jab from Dimitri he only barely parried. Their opponent was not looking well. Bloodied and short of breath, he fought yet on. Panic surged through Dimitri. If the soldier did not yield soon, he was likely to be seriously injured. He had to have been aware of that.

A _twang_ and a rush of air, and Ashe’s arrow found purchase in the man’s shoulder. With a grunt, he dropped his weapon and staggered to his knees. Ashe’s cry of concern followed, and Ingrid jerked back, lowering her lance. The soldier was in no position to retaliate. They had won this fight, and they could move forward, but…

_“The battle is not over until your opponent is dead.”_

Those had been the professor’s words to him at the end of their first spar. This battle was only for practice, of course, but wasn’t that precisely the point? They were practicing for death.

He knew from experience that this was where people hesitated. Where they were hesitating now.

And hesitation would get them killed.

He swung his lance—

“Yield!” the man practically gasped.

—Dimitri redirected at the last moment. The tip of his lance sank into the earth. He shook with relief. Had—had the man had not spoken, would Dimitri have let himself strike? He had to believe he would not have.

Hurried steps signaled Ashe’s approach. On the ground, the man coughed, wiping the blood from his mouth with a grimace.

“Saints above, you kids are strong. And well-taught.” He revealed a dagger in his other hand. “Would have tossed this at you, had you waited a moment more.”

Beside him, Ingrid and Ashe made sounds of audible surprise. Dimitri blanched. His pulse pounded in his ears.

The professor had been right.

“Fight hard, and don’t let up. The closer to defeat, the harder an enemy resists.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Dimitri heard himself say. He offered a hand to the soldier. “Do you need any assistance getting to a healer?”

The man shook his head and chuckled but took the assistance to stand. “Focus on the battle, kids.”

With a wince, he pulled a white kerchief from his pocket, draped it over his shoulder, and limped towards the sidelines. Together, after a collective breath, the little squad pressed on.

The next few skirmishes had a similar pace—one soldier at a time, Dimitri and Ingrid kept their opponent busy, pushing them back while Ashe fired careful arrows into the fray. It was easier to fake a “killing blow” every subsequent time—but he noticed that Ingrid and Ashe were saving him the burden of doing so. He could hardly fault them; between the three of them, he had the most combat experience. But it was not a luxury they could afford to indulge in for much longer. The battlefield was ever-changing and often lonely; a moment would come where they would need to strike to survive.

 _Perhaps even sooner than expected,_ Dimitri thought as two soldiers met them head-on. He had only a moment to mouth “mock battle” to Ingrid before he dashed forward, hoping she understood the message. Engaging two opponents was a struggle, but not one too great with Ashe’s aid. Dimitri forced the soldiers back towards the trees. If they were to fall back and use the terrain to their advantage, his plan might be foiled—but thankfully it seemed that he and Ashe were keeping them too busy to do anything but parry. Now they only needed Ingrid to—

A blur of blonde hair darted behind the soldiers, and with a cry, Ingrid smashed her lance against one soldier’s head, and Dimitri swept the other off his feet. The defeated cleared the field. This time, Dimitri surveyed his surroundings before he spoke to Ingrid. The memory of the mock battle, of her scream and the sound of buzzing insects, was still fresh in his mind. He would not see her hurt again for his mistake. Cheeks pink, she grinned at his praise, and then they were off into the trees, heading towards the rendezvous point.

On the other side of the wood, they spotted the professor’s squad engaging a group of soldiers—including the enemy commander. The professor herself feinted a blow and twisted away, drawing three soldiers after her. She wove between them effortlessly, seemingly untroubled by the odds against her.

Dimitri felt his breath catch.

He had fought alongside Professor Eisner several times now and had faced off against her in a few lessons, but this was the first time he had been able to observe her fighting without interruption.

She was swift and fierce—that he knew and had known since the first glimpses he had seen of her in combat—but what struck him was the fluidity of her movements, the grace. She danced from one opponent to the next like wind, the sleeves of her overcoat fluttering like a standard in a breeze.

“She’s…she’s incredible,” Ingrid whispered.

Dimitri couldn’t disagree.

“Will we be able to fight like that?” Ashe marveled.

Dimitri barely heard himself answer, “If we keep to our training, perhaps.”

“Should—should we help her?” Ingrid asked.

“Oh!” cried Ashe. “You’re absolutely right! Experienced or not, she shouldn’t be fighting alone.”

He drew back his bowstring and fired—a miss, but one of the Knights turned to face where the arrow had been, and the professor landed a blow to his temple with the pommel of her sword. He crumpled and dropped heavily to the earth. Ingrid ran at them, Dimitri close on her heels. The professor regarded them so quickly Dimitri wasn’t sure she had even acknowledged them as allies—and then she ducked, spun, and kicked one of the soldiers towards them. Taking advantage of the soldier’s instability, Ingrid knocked her flat.

Dimitri looked past the professor and her last opponent to where Annette and Sylvain were fighting the enemy commander. Sylvain’s strikes were languid but dogged, and the commander matched every blow. A gust of wind, hurled by Annette, rushed towards them. A lesser opponent might have been thrown by the unexpected push, but a lesser opponent the commander was not. He let the magic push him and brought the momentum into his next swing. Sylvain brought his lance up just in time.

Dimitri barreled towards them, the spark of an idea taking hold in his mind. Seeing him advance, the commander turned, lance outstretched to meet Dimitri’s own.

But Dimitri was aiming lower.

As he had seen the professor do in the mock battle, Dimitri sank and slid into the commander’s ankles. The commander stumbled and cried out—at the same moment, Annette sent another blast of wind towards them—and the commander tripped over Dimitri’s legs, falling flat on his back. Sylvain held him there with the blade of his lance.

The battle-horn sounded again in two long blasts.

It was over.

They had won.

The Blue Lions roared.

“You were right, Dimitri! You really were! We did it!” Annette cried. She twirled once, and Dimitri thought she might hug him until Mercedes came closer and asked if they were hurt. Annette laughed and squeezed her. Dedue joined the group and offered a hand to Dimitri. He looked tired but whole. Dimitri smiled at him, and Dedue returned the look.

“Are you injured, Your Highness?” Dedue asked as he pulled Dimitri up.

“I’m all right, thank you.”

“Nice move, Dimitri,” Sylvain laughed and thumped him on the back. “Though not especially princely. Where’d you learn that one?”

Dimitri grinned, sheepish. “The professor did something like that during the mock battle. Much more gracefully, of course.”

Sylvain whistled. “Is that right? And what would the professor think if she heard you thought she was graceful?”

Dimitri’s face burned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I said _no such thing—”_

“Easy there, friend!” Sylvain covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. “It was only a joke. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Dimitri shook his head and turned away. Professor Eisner stood in front of them, head tilted slightly, otherwise unreadable. Dimitri’s eyes widened. Had she heard any of that? He opened his mouth to speak, and she looked down. Dimitri’s jaw clamped shut.

She looked up again and crossed her arms.

“You took a risk. We won because of it, but more caution would not go amiss. And…well done.” She looked around. “All of you. I’m impressed.”

_Impressed._

She did not look particularly impressed. But Dimitri had spent enough time around the professor to know she did not mince words. If she said they had impressed her, then they had. Dimitri felt himself straighten up—saw all the Blue Lions brighten—and smiled. While it would have been arrogant to suppose he knew better than his professor, Dimitri was glad all the same to see her acknowledge what he had seen in his classmates from the start. Certainly the bulk of their success had been due to her instruction and rigorous training—but to see her accept their results as more than merely a fluke was heartening, to say the least.

Their training was paying off, and the professor could see it, too. Soon, they would be seeing true combat, and after today’s performance, it seems more likely than ever that they would emerge victorious.

* * *

The weekend following had an entirely different mood to it.

“I am attending a seminar tomorrow. Your participation is not required,” the professor said at the end of class. “But those who do not attend will be mucking out the stables all day.”

Out of diligence, duty, and a certain aversion to physical labor, on the morning following, the entire Blue Lions class stood behind their professor in the doorway to the Black Eagles classroom. Dimitri himself would not have minded the extra activity—certainly the horses were worthy of such care—but doing it _all day_ did seem a bit excessive. And he was curious as to what seminar the professor was so keen on them attending.

As their shadows crossed the threshold into the other classroom, the occupants within fell silent. Some of the Black Eagles shot them dark looks while others merely appeared confused. One girl squealed and hid under her desk, prompting uncomfortable looks between both houses. If Dimitri recalled correctly, that must have been Count Varley’s daughter, Bernadetta, and that kind of behavior was not uncommon from her, or so he had heard.

A boy in the back of the room with spiky blue hair eyed them with visible concern.

“You guys lost or something?” he said. Caspar von Bergliez, if Dimitri was not mistaken. A second son. “This is the Black Eagles classroom, not the Blue Lions classroom.”

Professor Eisner strode into the room as though she had not heard the objection. Dimitri followed closely on her heels, and the rest of the Lions trickled in behind. Professor Manuela hurried to meet them.

“Oh, you’re here! I worried you had changed your mind—and you brought your entire class! How…admirable! Unexpected, but admirable. We should have enough space, especially if my kids scoot a bit. Have a seat anywhere you’d like!” She smiled and gestured around the room. Near the front, Dimitri saw an open place to the left of Edelgard and Hubert. He made for the seat.

With a smile, he greeted them. “Hail, Edelgard. Hubert. May I sit here?”

“I suppose I can’t stop you,” Edelgard responded, glance cursory at best. A small hurt bloomed in Dimitri. Had he said something offensive? Was she putting on a front for her classmates? Dimitri had hoped they would not see each other as enemies—perhaps more as friendly rivals, working towards the same goals. They were both meant to be rulers. Bonds forged during their time at the Officers Academy together would prove invaluable later in their future roles. Perhaps Dimitri would need to take the first step.

Again.

He took the seat. To his surprise, the professor plopped down directly to his left, far more closely than he would have sat to her. To give the professor adequate space, he would need to move closer to Edelgard, and he was certain Edelgard would be displeased by that. He’d have to stay where he was then. Surely the professor wasn’t too bothered if she had chosen to sit so closely to him? She didn’t look perturbed in any way, but that was hardly new. Dimitri shifted slightly anyway in an attempt to keep his elbows from knocking against hers. Behind him, Dedue and Mercedes took their seats next to the princess of Brigid—Petra, he thought he remembered hearing.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other,” Dimitri tried. Edelgard did not respond; instead, it was Hubert who addressed him.

“Yes,” he sneered. “Not since the mock battle, when you knocked me unconscious.”

“Oh, actually, that was me!” Mercedes chimed in. Hubert regarded her with mild surprise. “I knocked you unconscious, Hubert, not Dimitri. I’m so sorry. Has your head been troubling you?”

“Erm, no. Thank you for the clarification. All those blows to the head must have distorted my memory.”

He tucked a stray hair behind his ear and gave Dimitri a pointed glare. Dimitri resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Loudly, Professor Manuela cleared her throat. “Children. Must I separate you?”

Beside him, his own professor arched a single eyebrow, as if asking the same question. Dimitri felt his ears burn with shame. They were guests here. Whether the Eagles baited them or not, they should have risen above it. Edelgard had not even participated in the conversation—though she had done nothing to stop it either.

“That won’t be necessary,” Dimitri said. “On behalf of the Blue Lions, I apologize. There will be no further interruption from us.”

Only then did Edelgard turn to look directly at him—no, _past_ him.

“Professor Eisner,” she said. “Might I inquire as to what brings you here?”

She had ignored him completely. Was Edelgard still bitter over losing the new professor to the Lions? Could it be as simple as that? Dimitri could hardly fault her—every time he saw Professor Eisner in battle, he was struck anew by her prowess. But that sort of resentment from Edelgard was unbecoming at best, not to mention unexpected.

“I can answer that, Edelgard,” Professor Manuela said. She turned to address the room at large. “Class, as you know, the weekend lectures are open to anyone at the monastery. Today, the Blue Lions are joining us to learn a little faith magic.”

_White magic._

They were here to learn some faith magic. No wonder Professor Eisner had been so interested.

Dimitri himself had never quite taken to magic…it was not as though he found the concept inaccessible, but something in the practice just never turned out the way he expected it to. The best he had been able to produce once was a couple sparks that made both his and his instructor’s hair stand on end. And, failing his lack of ability, magic made him a little…anxious. It was not enough activity to keep him occupied. Dimitri knew his thoughts were prone to wandering, and it was easier to drown them out with a lance in his hands.

Professor Manuela clapped her hands together. “Shall we get started, then?”

No one responded, but Dimitri did not expect they were meant to. He thought Professor Manuela might head to the blackboard—every time he had been taught magic prior, it had involved copious complex patterns and numbers. As his own professor pulled out her notebook beside him, Dimitri cursed himself. Why had he not brought something to write with?

But Professor Manuela did not approach the blackboard. Instead, she leaned against her desk and lifted a hand into the air.

“With a lesson on magic, you might expect to take a lot of notes—but that’s not the kind of magic I teach. Reason magic has all those…formulas, and equations.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Faith magic is about connecting with the goddess.”

The softest snort came from his right—the direction of Edelgard. Dimitri turned to look at her, but her face was so neutral—almost as still and unreadable as Professor Eisner’s—that he suspected he might have imagined it. Edelgard raised an eyebrow at him, almost like a challenge, but did not turn her head. Dimitri let it drop and returned his attention to the lecture.

Professor Manuela continued, “And, I have found the goddess is most easily reached through song. How many of you have heard a priest or bishop hum under their breath while they were using white magic?”

A few tentative hands went up around the room.

“Hardly seems a time to sing, doesn’t it? What they’re doing is reaching out to the goddess. Music is a great connector—person to person, mind to idea, woman to goddess—music helps us understand one another. So today, to reach the goddess and practice our white magic, we will be singing.”

A collective groan echoed throughout the room, permeated by only a few excited gasps.

“You all signed up for choir, didn’t you? No complaining. We’ll start with something universal—everyone is familiar with ‘The Eyes of The Goddess,’ right? Now, deep breaths, eyes closed, and focus. When you begin to sing, you may _feel_ something—that’s harmony with the goddess. Redirect that energy to your hands. I want to see everyone get that glow at least once today.”

Dimitri sighed as quietly as he could. “The Eyes of The Goddess” was not his favorite hymn by half, nor was singing in public his idea of an enjoyable time. He signed up for choir simply because the rest of the class had, and…well, Professor Eisner had been…persuasive.

Dimitri did not begin to sing right away, but after a moment, he closed his eyes and joined his voice with the others.

The sound of his voice was so loud in his ears. Did he always sound like that? He could hear the variance, the mistakes between his notes and Professor Manuela’s. Like magic, singing was something he had simply never been especially good at. Some of that, Dimitri knew, could be remedied with training—a voice was as much a weapon as a lance—but it had never been a priority for him. Nor did he believe any amount of training in this area could improve his natural lack of talent.

It occurred to him that reflecting on his own ineptitude was likely not the intended outcome of the exercise. He was supposed to be focusing on the goddess.

Dimitri fought another sigh.

…was that what he had been doing wrong all this time? Should he have been singing to the goddess instead of praying to her? Was song the only proper means to reach her? And what if she was not listening at all? Dimitri had been singing hymns by rote nearly his entire life, and he had never once felt the goddess.

Perhaps he had been doing it wrong. Perhaps she could not hear them at all. Perhaps worse, she could, but did not care to answer.

Dimitri trailed off. He was definitely doing it wrong now. Doubting the goddess surely meant she would not answer, if she could at all.

He became aware of a stillness around him. The class at large was still singing, but the ones next to him were assuredly not. Dimitri opened his eyes a crack and peeked at Edelgard. Neither she nor Hubert were participating, the both of them looking ahead, lips curled and brows furrowed. That didn’t seem right. He remembered Edelgard singing often when she was in Fhirdiad, or humming to keep the beat as she taught him to dance. Dimitri turned to his left.

The professor was staring at him.

Had he been singing still, that look would have silenced him. Her stares were often piercing, but this was the most intense by _far_. Dimitri felt stripped entirely, bared before her. How could she manage a look like that? How could anyone manage a look like that? Like…like—he hated to even think it—something unnatural, _inhuman_ , was watching him. A shiver tore through Dimitri, his mouth drying as the hairs on the back of his neck raised. The tips of his fingers prickled. The professor’s indigo gaze slid downward, and he looked down with her, desperate to look anywhere but her face.

From the tips of his fingers shone a small, white light.

“Well done, Dimitri!” Professor Manuela stood in front of him, beaming. The light from his hands went out. Dimitri blinked in surprise, unsteady relief fizzling through him. He could not imagine how _any_ part of that process had gone as Professor Manuela intended. How had he been able to call white magic like that? What had he done? Was this a message from the goddess?

How? Why? What did it _mean?_

“Quite a few of you were successful,” Professor Manuela said. “Let’s try another hymn: how about ‘Enumeration of the Saints’? I’ve always been fond of that one.”

The class began to sing, and Dimitri joined in immediately, warily eying the tips of his fingers. Nothing. No change. No tingling, no magic. And Professor Eisner and Edelgard both did not join in song, nor through the third, fourth, or even fifth hymn. Around the room, he saw other students were starting to find success, the light from their hands flickering like candles at a vigil. Dimitri looked down at his own hands, rough and scarred, and shook his head. He could not understand it. What had been different between the first song and any other hymn he had sung in his life? It was not as though this was his first time through “The Eyes of the Goddess.”

Beside him, the tell-tale glow of white magic lit Professor Eisner’s hands more brightly than it had anyone else’s, save for Professor Manuela’s example. Dimitri’s confusion compounded into amazement. Professor Eisner had not sung once yet. She curled her hand into a fist, and the light disappeared. Their eyes met briefly again. Whatever strangeness Dimitri had seen before was gone, replaced now only by a very human uncertainty. She turned away. What she had just done was a vast improvement since the last he saw her summon white magic—she was getting undeniably better. She might even be competent with combat casting by the time they heard word from the Knights regarding the bandits for their mission this moon. Dimitri wondered if she’d be willing to impart her technique to him. If such a result could be obtained without singing, he was more than willing to try.

He’d try anything that didn’t involve singing at least once.

Dimitri lost count of the number of songs they went through, but he found no further success. On either side of him, the silence persisted, and neither the professor nor Edelgard produced any more magic, to Professor Manuela’s audible disappointment. She dismissed the class, encouraging them to practice singing and summoning in tandem.

The Eagles and Lions trickled out of the room. Beside Dimitri, Edelgard stood, her things already gathered into a neat pile. She lifted the stack of papers, hugging it close to her chest, and removed herself from her seat. In her haste, it seemed almost like she was fleeing her own classroom. Dimitri rose after her. They had hardly had a chance to speak. To leave on such an unfriendly note left Dimitri with a knot in his chest.

“Hold a moment, Edelgard,” he called.

Dimitri could have sworn he saw something like annoyance cross her face for a split second before her expression smoothed into something more neutral.

“What is it, Dimitri?”

Was he keeping her from something pressing, or did she simply not wish to speak with him? If she were busy, he could understand. But…if the problem was just him, then…

_Then I’d better make the most of this chance._

“I noticed you weren’t singing,” he started. Edelgard narrowed her eyes.

_Brilliant. Idiot._

“I noticed you were,” she replied tightly.

_Absolute idiot._

Dimitri chuckled. “Yes, and I’d like to apologize for that. I’ve never been especially skilled at singing, if you recall. But, in any case—I only meant to say that it seemed like you weren’t fond of the idea either. Professor Eisner seems to have found a trick for white magic that doesn’t involve singing, and I thought you might have an interest in it. Perhaps we could practice together.”

A hardness in her eyes was the only change he could detect in her expression. The knot in his chest tightened. What could have been wrong to say about that? Surely she was interested in learning, and something from Professor Eisner no less. Had he read the situation incorrectly?

Levelly, Edelgard asked, “Do you know what the technique is?”

_Damn it._

Dimitri rubbed the back of his neck and laughed dryly. “Well—no, not yet.”

_Putting the cart before the horse yet again, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Crown Prince of Idiocy._

“So you have nothing to share then,” Edelgard said. Was it his imagination, or was there a coldness in her tone? Dimitri felt his ears heat. He could hardly believe it. It was true that several long years had passed since they had last seen each other, but this Edelgard bore nearly no similarities to the El he had known.

She shifted, drawing herself up, and took a deep, deep breath. Though he was still much taller than she was, he found the gesture nonetheless intimidating. Dimitri felt himself reflexively flinch, memories of her castigations from half a decade ago flooding back to him.

For the first time since he had arrived at her classroom, Edelgard looked directly at him. If the iciness of her tone was uncertain, the frost in her eyes was certainly not.

“I see I’ve given you the wrong impression, Dimitri. Perhaps your time would be better spent focusing less on my perceived weaknesses and more on your own. Based on your progress today, I don’t believe studying with you would be of any benefit to either of us.”

It was only words she had struck him with, but Dimitri felt acutely as though she had cleaved him with her axe. In the background, he could hear Professor Manuela’s voice, clear and full, climbing the scales. Ironic that she had told them music was meant to connect, but it had not connected Dimitri to anyone—not the goddess, and not Edelgard. His response came slowly as he struggled to regain his composure, his words sluggish and hesitant.

“Edelgard, have I given you offense in some way? If so, I apologize.”

The coldness of her countenance softened, and she turned her face away. She opened her mouth to speak—and then looked past him with a surprise so stark, a light blush spreading across her cheeks, that Dimitri couldn’t help but turn to see what had enraptured her so.

As he turned, Dimitri heard a voice. An unfamiliar voice, singing scales with such haunting loveliness that it set his hair on end and sent shivers down his spine. In front of Professor Manuela, mouth open in song and hands aglow with bright white light, stood Professor Eisner.

Dimitri blinked.

She could sing? Why hadn’t she done so during the lesson then? Was this another thing that made her nervous? If so, he could hardly believe it. With a voice like that…listening to her would have made this entire experience far more pleasant than it had been.

Er. Not that that was the purpose of the exercise, in any case, but—

“Never mind, Dimitri,” Edelgard said. Dimitri turned to protest, but Edelgard was already putting purposeful distance between, the red of her half-cape trailing behind her. Dimitri took a slow breath in and released it. He turned back towards the professors and made his way over to them.

Professor Manuela was beaming.

“Byleth, that was incredible!”

Professor Eisner looked away.

 _Byleth,_ Dimitri realized with a start. _Her name is Byleth._

He had spent so much time helping her with the names of the Blue Lions, with training and taking her lessons to heart, that it had not even occurred to him that he did not know her given name.

“Don’t be shy, dear! I know some folks who would _kill_ for such pitch,” Professor Manuela said. She turned to Dimitri. “That’s one talented professor you’ve got there, Dimitri.”

He smiled at them. “Indeed so. The Blue Lions are lucky to have her—though we’re fortunate to have your tutelage today as well, Professor Manuela.”

Professor Manuela squealed and placed a hand on her hip.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer! You must make the girls go crazy.”

His laugh was awkward, unexpected. A romantic partner was the very furthest thing from his mind. Not with all the work that needed to be done, not with the path ahead of him. There was time for nothing and no one but getting stronger to fulfill his duty to the dead. The smile on his face felt so false that it hurt.

“There’s hardly time to think of such things with all the training we’ve been doing. Professor Eisner has given us no quarter.”

The professor considered him and frowned slightly. “There is no time for frivolities.”

At least that was something they could agree on.

Professor Manuela chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “It seems you chose well, Professor. The Blue Lions suit you. Or at the very least, your house leader does. Thanks for stopping by today. If you want to get some practice in before my next seminar, there’s always choir practice. Might help you with the words, too.”

She patted Professor Eisner on the shoulder and walked out.

“The words”? What had Professor Manuela meant by that? Dimitri looked at his professor. She scratched idly at the cover of her notebook, and an idea rose in him. Could it be that simple—that she had not been singing because she did not know the words? It seemed consistent enough with what he knew of her, but the idea that anyone who had been raised in Fódlan could be unaware of the words to the most prominent hymns of the dominant religion in the land was just—well, incredible.

And biased, on his part. Likely quite a few people lacked that knowledge. Most of them were probably unlikely to become professors at a monastery, but that wasn’t of paramount importance, right? Professor Eisner’s combat was unparalleled, and that was what she taught. The Archbishop must have had her reasons for hiring Professor Eisner, and it was not his place to question them. Dimitri shook his head and smiled more genuinely at his professor.

“That was an interesting lesson, wouldn’t you agree?”

Professor Eisner slowly nodded, eying him warily. She said, “Professor Manuela has a very different teaching style.”

“Indeed so. If I may be so bold, though, I do prefer yours.”

A twitch of her lips, the faint traces of a frown.

“You keep saying that.”

“And I mean it earnestly. I’ve never been particularly good at magic. Your application is much more physical. I am finding I learn quickly with your direction.”

The wariness, though subtle, returned to her expression. She looked away. When she spoke, it was soft. “Perhaps Manuela was right.”

“About what?” he asked.

Still looking away, she answered, “That you suit me.”

Dimitri felt his heart skip a beat, though he could not discern a reason for it. He blushed, smile rising to his lips again.

“I do think you’re suited to—to us, Professor. To the Blue Lions.”

She looked sharply at him, but the tone of her voice remained even as she spoke. “My father said our next job was in the Kingdom. Perhaps this is the outcome of forgoing that course.”

“Perhaps,” Dimitri acknowledged with a dip of his head. “In either case, I’m glad you’re here.”

The professor looked away. Her knuckles flexed as she tightened her grip on the book in her hands, her voice just above a whisper.

“I think I am, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I am sorry I am so slow to update. ^_^'' December was really busy with a lot of different projects and personal struggles. I have some other exciting stuff in the pipes, but I am of course putting all my heart into this first and foremost. I'm just...really...slow... Slow as the slowburn of this romance :D
> 
> Anyway! Title inspiration is again, very bodily. In contrast to Byleth's almost numbness, Dimitri has A Lot of Feelings Like All of The Time--hence, combined with the blood-pumping action--Rush of Blood.
> 
> Musical inspiration: this chapter has two moods to me; one upbeat, one slower. For the upbeat portion, as with nearly any battle scene, I am endlessly looping "Fódlan Winds" from the 3H soundtrack. For the second portion, especially near the end, "Like the Dawn" by The Oh Hellos speaks so deeply to me as a Dimileth song--the subtle waking of feelings, warm and bright.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading; your support means the world to me. If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment--it makes my day. <3 And though I am slow, but I respond to them all eventually. <3


End file.
